Promethean Shadows

by Patrick Jean-Jacques

  “So, you’ll no longer be a Junior Journalist,” teased Maya. “Say it isn’t so!”

  Will smiled, “What about you, where will a first class degree in Environmental Sciences take you?”

  “Well, technically this is my second degree,” said Maya matter-of-factly.

  “Second! You’ve got two degrees?” asked an impressed Will.

  Maya blushed, almost embarrassed by her own success, “Uh-huh! I did Biochemistry at Bath,” she said. “But I wanted to continue studying other branches of science. So I did another four years and pursued environmental sciences.”

  Maya and Will continued to chinwag about the future direction of their lives, ignoring the hubbub of celebration and adulation. With their arms still wrapped around each other, they looked into each other’s eyes silently. They both wondered if they’d be together but that was a conversation for another time.

  “Hey love-birds?” interrupted Adam, who was standing alongside Ally. “We’re painting the city red tonight. We’re meeting in the Spoons at 6:30pm,” he said cheerfully.

  “We’ll be there,” said Will, as he looked at Maya for confirmation.

  “We’ll be a little late,” chipped in Maya.

  Will looked at his friends with a bashful expression on his flushed face. Adam and Ally looked at each other and smirked, as they turned towards the exit with their certificates in hand. They walked out of the hall whispering excitedly, as Maya and Will followed behind.

  The evening’s celebrations lived up to expectation. Maya and Will hooked-up with the others at the local bar before moving onto the largest nightclub in the city. Many graduates were already partying hard and by the look of things, the excessive consumption of alcohol had taken hold of quite a few of them.

  Through a haze of artificial mist and the multiple sparkling lights from the glitter ball, the raucous partying continued into the small hours. As Will and his friends celebrated their graduation, they began to look ahead to a new chapter and beginning of their lives.

  The next morning, Will’s head was thumping relentlessly, as though someone was drumming furiously inside it. He was uncertain of the time of day because the clock was a blur but he could see Maya was already up. He could hear the sounds of scampering around the kitchen and the manoeuvring of crockery and food.

  The welcome aroma of sizzling eggs, bacon and sausages permeated through Will’s nostrils, which teased him out of bed. As he sat-up, he felt a more intense throbbing from his unwelcome hangover. Will struggled to co-ordinate his movements and very slowly, he shuffled towards the pleasant smell.

  In the background, he could hear the seriousness in the tone of the newsreader, as she summarised the latest headlines on TV. Will staggered towards the dining area and sat down to watch, if not hear the news.

  The newscaster was reporting about a blackout that had occurred recently. This was the second one in the last four months, not that it had occurred to Will in his intoxicated state. Meteorologists had stated that this was the largest blackout to hit the entire British Isles for twenty years and had affected major cities.

  In spite of the fierce drumming inside his head, Will tried to listen, ‘Unusually, the blackouts occurred at the same time… Major cities affected included Aberdeen, Inverness, York, Manchester, Norwich, Aberystwyth and Cardiff… Everywhere was without any electrical services for hours.’

  Will tried to think hard through the thumping in his head. He tried to recall the details about the previous event but found it challenging to concentrate through the relentless drumming. Maya smiled at all the facial expressions Will made, as he thought through his hangover.

  When Maya placed the food in front of him, Will looked away from the screen but he still listened as the report came to an end, ‘In a statement, Hugh Morse, Chairman of the National Power Grid was at a loss to explain the nature of these incidents. However, he promised there would a full investigation. Earlier, the Prime Minister issued a statement…’

  Will now focussed all of his attention on his food. Tentatively, he looked up at the clock and realised that his perception of the time way off, at least by four hours.

  “Afternoon sleepy-head,” chirped Maya happily.

  “Morning,” slurred Will jokily.

  “How’s your head?” she asked.

  “How is that you’re immune to excesses of alcoholic consumption?” asked Will, contorting his face, as he posed the question.

  “Well, it’s a little party trick that I learned,” said Maya proudly. “It’s called water between drinks and eating before you start,” she smiled.

  Will nodded very slowly in agreement at Maya’s anti-hangover strategy, although, it was generally common knowledge amongst many socialites. With the thumping still raged inside his head, they spent the rest of the afternoon talking and enjoying their lunch.

  During their conversation, Will changed the topic suddenly, as if they’d been talking about it all afternoon, “It’s curious though, don’t you think?” he asked Maya quizzically.

  “What’s curious?” she replied.

  “The blackouts,” he exclaimed. “What with that one that happened in Ireland a few months back,” said Will speculatively. He found that his head seemed much better after he’d eaten and when he wasn’t moving.

  “And over here too,” said Maya astutely. “Yes, they do seem strange. What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “Well, before the places affected by the blackout seemed random at first,” Will surmised. “…Bangor, Isle of Man, Blackpool and Stranraer, not exactly close together. This time, the cities seem to be more specific, “he added. “From north to south, Aberdeen, York, Manchester, Norwich, Aberystwyth and Cardiff… they’re all prominent cities,” concluded Will, as he looked at Maya for a response.

  She was studying his face, “You think they’re connected!” she said.

  “Maybe, I don’t know!” said Will ambiguously. “I know that I need a shower, I need to see Daley and I need to sober up.”

  Will got to his feet confidently and as if on cue, the thumping returned with a vengeance. Maya was looking at him, as though she was trying to read him. “Why don’t you pursue that story for the Chronicle?” she suggested offhandedly. “Daley would go for that, wouldn’t he?”

  Will looked at Maya with a mild curiosity. He was surprised with the astuteness of her suggestion. He couldn’t tell if she came up with that idea spontaneously or if she was deliberately steering him towards that particular course of action.

  “He might!” replied Will, as he smiled through the drumming.

  Upon arriving at the Chronicle, Will’s first move was to saunter brazenly into Daley’s office and inform him of his desire to pursue the blackouts story. In spite of a point-blank refusal, he still felt the need to discuss his theory.

  As Will was leaving, Daley unexpectedly offered him some revealing information about the blackouts. There were other incidents not reported in the news, such as the two private jets that crashed near airports in Cambridge and Exeter.

  The blackout crippled some very high profile car manufacturing plants in Bedfordshire, Norfolk and Wiltshire. Daley’s sources confirmed that there was some civil unrest in several towns and cities but local police were able to quell any potential disturbances from escalating.

  Daley had also recounted to Will, how the national papers and television networks had ‘done a great job’ of playing down the impact of the blackouts. Although, the real reason was that the government gagged them for reasons undisclosed.

  Will and Daley thought about those events for a little while. They were clearly both thinking the same thing, when they arrived at the same conclusion, “EMP!” they both declared, at the same time.

  “An electromagnetic pulse,” reiterated Will. “Capable of rendering any,”

  “Most!” interrupted Daley.

  “…All electrical and electronic devices within a specific radius, redundant,” finished Will. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, �
�Aren’t EMP devices used exclusively by the military?” he asked.

  “I suppose so,” replied Daley, “Why?”

  Will was still standing with his arms folded, “I don’t get why someone would want to use one in a civilian population,” he replied. “Terrorism?” he asserted, as he looked at Daley.

  “Maybe but that’s still not your concern,” dismissed Daley. “You’ve got your story.”

  “Yes Boss, I do!” said Will.

  “You still here?” growled Daley.

  A week later, Will’s energy story was gaining the traction he needed to write a good piece. As a result, he began to devoting his spare time on his other concern, identifying other members of the Promethean organisation.

  That evening, Will pulled the rug under his bed to one side and lifted the loose parquet from the floor. When he found what he was looking for, he fidgeted with the key for a few seconds and opened the metal box. Inside the box were the photos and news cuttings that he’d obtained from the Chronicle’s archives.

  After he’d rubbed his tired eyes, Will examined all of the evidence in front of him. He considered each picture and article meticulously, then began linking event to event in chronological order. When he was finished, he grabbed some photos of the key people that he believed were involved to the events on some level.

  Will stared at the pictures of Professor McDonald and the group of ministers in the Washington energy conference photo. Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to formulate where each person sat, in terms of a hierarchy or inner circle within the Promethean organisation.

  He added his parents Alannah and Cameron Cox to the list, along with Nathan Walker and possibly, Maya. Will thought back to his days at Arsham Independent School for Boys, specifically his history lessons and started to consider the nature of leadership.

  He remembered the different civilisations that he learned about, such as the ancient Rome, the Vikings and the Mayans, and wondered if the Prometheans based their organisational structure in a similar manner.

  ‘Where does, did the Professor fit on that ladder?’ thought Will. ‘Where did Maya’s or my parents sit?’ Will juggled several questions simultaneously in his head, trying to place each person and minister into a logical order.

  Will drummed his fingers on the table intensely as he tried to figure out who sat where on the Promethean hierarchy. The more he contemplated, the harder he drummed until there was sense in his conclusions.

  Suddenly, Will’s fingers stopped drumming, when he’d realised the major flaw in his thinking. He considered the pictures, the Prometheans, his family and the mysterious assassin from his apartment and recognised they were connected. However, there was one major factor he’d completely overlooked and that was himself.

  All the pieces of the puzzle were falling slowly but surely into place. For Will, what once imperceptible, now seemed more apparent. Yet, there were still large holes that needed filing.

  Will needed to get closer to the Promethean organisation but wasn’t entirely how he was going to achieve that, he needed a strategy. It was almost midnight and a bleary-eyed Will decided that it was time to shut things down. Tomorrow he’d map out all of his facts more clearly, so he could see the bigger picture.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Vantage Points

  Maya Walker steered her vehicle smoothly off the M5 motorway at the appropriate junction and headed south of Worcester. Soon, she would reach her destination where the Malvern Hills stretched steeply away from the Severn Plains and the spring waters gushed gracefully from the rocks.

  The midday sunlight glistened as it kissed the metallic-blue bodywork of her 1966 Mustang convertible. In a few minutes, she arrived at a magnificent Georgian mansion that dominated the landscape.

  The brickwork on the front wall were ashen-grey in colour and had a distinctly dated look. Also on the front and sides of the mansion was garlands of evergreen ivy, which crept up and around the walls.

  Maya pressed the intercom button next to the gates, “It’s me,” she said simply. She looked up at the security cameras, gave a cursory wave and smiled. Maya knew fully well, who’d be watching the monitors, paranoia made for compulsive habits.

  In the next second, a large mechanical grinding echoed loudly through the air and the grand black gates swung open slowly. Maya deliberately made the rear wheels spin, causing dust and stone-chips to fly-up in a frenzy, as she accelerated down the driveway.

  Cameron Cox stood at the front door between two colossal pillars and watched imperiously, as the car drove up the courtyard. He was wearing a beige cotton shirt with military-style epaulettes and twin breast pockets, both of his sleeves were rolled-up. As he stood watching the car approach, a gentle breeze blew through his mostly grey hair. He held his arms out wide and greeted the young woman warmly.

  “Maya, my dear!” he smiled.

  “Cameron! How are you?” she replied warmly. They hugged each other with a mutual respect.

  “Fine, fine,” replied Cameron Cox. “How’s the boy?”

  Maya corrected him, “You mean Will?” she corrected him. “He’s good! I’ll tell you all inside.”

  They both walked inside and went into a large reception room, which served as Cameron’s main study. Maya ambled over to the mushroom-coloured leather sofa and sat down elegantly.

  Cameron Cox walked over to his mini bar, “What will it be my dear?”

  “The usual please thanks,” she replied.

  With the flair and finesse of a highly schooled barman, Cameron placed a combination of lime and sugar into a shiny, cocktail shaker and mashed the two together with a wooden spoon. Next, he crushed some ice and added all contents into an ornamental tall glass. After pouring a significant measure of cachaça, he handed the glass to Maya.

  She sipped the drink, as if she’d been sitting in the sun all day and it was her first, “Mmm, perfect Caipirinha,” she complimented Cameron.

  “Glad you like it,” said Cameron and got immediately down to business. “So, the boy’s making progress with his research?”

  Maya ignored Cameron’s persistent reference to Will as ‘the boy,’ “He’s asking all the right questions and putting the pieces together, just as you’d expect,” she responded.

  “Does he have any inkling about our plans for Chapelsfield?” said Cameron warily.

  “Well, he knows it has some importance but he’s not sure what or why,” replied Maya. “But he’ll figure it out soon enough. He’s quite intelligent, just like his father,” she added, while glancing sideways at Cameron. “And that silly experiment you and Albert ran, probably helped more than it hindered,” Maya said derisively.

  Silently, Cameron listened to Maya intently, hanging onto her every word. Then he provoked a reaction, “Yes, I seem to recall that you weren’t best pleased about the way we treated the test subject,” he teased.

  “Treated Will, you mean?” Maya glowered. “I don’t get how you could use your own son like that.”

  “Like what?” probed Cameron.

  “Like a dog! Like he’s some puppet-on-a-string,” Cameron did not reply. “Don’t you care he’s your own flesh and blood? Have you forgotten? Maya baited him. “Do you even remember how to feel or love Cameron?” His grip tightened around his glass of whiskey. “How long has it been since she left?” said Maya, knowing precisely which buttons to push.

  By now, the blood had pooled around the tip of Cameron’s white fingers. Pressure built around the glass and the rest of his hands turned pale. All of a sudden, the glass fractured under the intensity, cannoning off the counter and onto the floor.

  Translucent brown liquid splashed everywhere and blood stained ice-cubes skated along the counter. Cameron took a measured deep breath and eased the pressure boiling in his head. The redness around his faced quickly alleviated, and the colouring in his hand returned to normal.

  “My dear, if you weren’t Nathan Walker’s daughter or I didn’t have a care for you, I would’ve shot you righ
t where you’re sitting,” said Cameron coldly.

  Maya looked visibly scared by the threat, “S-sorry Cameron, I meant no offence,” she said apologetically. “I overstepped! Alannah was a beautiful woman, who…”

  “Turned her back on the organisation a long time ago,” finished Cameron, red-faced. “She couldn’t be objective and her maternal instincts was a hindrance.”

  “What happened to Alannah?” asked Maya.

  Cameron shrugged indifferently, “She worked with Baldwin-Jones for a time,” he said insipidly. “But she disappeared months later, no one knows why. She’s done extremely well to stay off the grid but we’ve people everywhere. If Alannah resurfaces, she’d be considered an unknown element and dealt with accordingly,” he sneered. He caught Maya’s reaction, “You disapprove? However, I must caution you to mind your own feelings. What we do and love seldom make good bedfellows. I know you and William have gotten close,” Cameron said knowingly. “Perhaps, you even love him.”

  “Is that how you’re able to do what you do?” asked Maya. “Switch off your feelings?”

  “My dear, what I’m doing is managing a delicate position. By intervening in the process of energy regulation, I’m balancing the scales of greedy, corrupt politicians and humanity. You do remember our ideology, yes?”

  “Y-yes of course,” replied Maya, as she felt off-guard.

  “Say it!” Cameron commanded, enjoying Maya’s discomfort.

  She recited their mantra, “We are Promethean’s, furantur igne nos suae reddere populo!”

  “Beautiful,” said Cameron impressed. “We steal their fire to give to the people! There aren’t many people who can still recite it in Latin.” Cameron was taking delight in testing the extent of Maya’s loyalty. “Do you think William has any knowledge of our primary goal?”

  “No, I don’t believe he has any inkling,” Maya said instantly. “But after the newsflashes about the second blackouts, he’s gotten ever more curious.” She saw that Cameron was looking at her intensely, “He has no knowledge of our plan,” confirmed Maya.